


It's The End

by xxCat1989xx



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: You can’t believe the day is actually here. It’s the first time you’re seeing them live, but it will also be the last.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, oh god. People are going to hate me for this, but I've been in a strange mood the last few weeks. I've exiled myself from Twitter because it was making me anxious and feel ridiculous about things. I miss everyone but I feel better about myself now... a little. I'm still working on it.
> 
> Please, please don't hate me <3

You can’t believe the day is actually here. It’s the first time you’re seeing them live, but it will also be the last.

Something has always managed to come up in the years before. You couldn’t get time off work, or your family had things planned. You remember the less than stellar Summer of 2018 when you had the money, you had the time to go, and then your car broke down on the way there. You remember crying on the backseat as you waited for the tow truck. You remember tweeting them constantly, apologising over and over and over again for something that was outside of your control. And it wasn’t even like they’d notice you weren’t there! It was agony. You were so close, yet so far. The tears only stopped for a moment when Scott saw your tweet and tweeted you back. Tweeted a photo of him with a sad face that made you cry harder and squeal so high only animals heard you. It wasn’t a live show, but it was enough to be noticed.

You tried again the following tours, but as their success grew, so did their fanbase. It was practically impossible to get VIP tickets anymore, and you became more and more despondent. The little group from Arlington, Texas had made a name for themselves, had put a capella on the map, got it played on the radio and into people’s homes everywhere.

New groups were popping up all over the place, and it was incredible. There was always someone talented to gush over, to feel proud of, but nothing would ever beat those five choir nerds who managed to embed themselves firmly in your heart. And even though they had become practically inaccessible, there was no stopping the skipping of your heart whenever they shared new music, no stopping the tears in your eyes when they shared new pictures or tweeted inside jokes. You still loved them, were still proud of them.

You can remember exactly where you were when they announced that the next tour would be the last. Sitting in the breakroom at work, frantically pressing play on the notification that lit up your phone not two seconds before.

It was in a YouTube video; they had gone back to their roots. Five faces stared at you from out of the screen, and you both smiled with happiness and cried with sadness as they announced that after ten long years they wanted to settle down, to make homes for themselves somewhere. They couldn’t be constantly on the roads anymore, not with Kirstie wanting to start a family with her husband soon, and as much as they loved performing, as much as they loved their fans and everything about their lives, it was time to call it a day. They might still do the odd show, like if they were asked to perform at the Grammys, they’d probably do it. But writing and recording new songs as Pentatonix, touring the world on a yearly basis, it was over.

You sobbed your heart out afterwards, flicking over to Twitter where your timeline had blown up. Everyone was expressing the same levels of shock you had been feeling. You know these things don’t last forever - no one is immortal - and these five incredible human beings deserve to relax, deserve some time to themselves, to make families and be with each other, but it still hurt.

 

-

“Pentatonix: Finally Going Home!” declares the lit-up sign over the sidewalk as you arrive at the venue. You laugh with tears in your eyes. You thought Scott was joking when they said in a recent Superfruit video that they were calling the tour that, but it looks like the blonde noodle had gotten his way.

You enter the venue, getting your regular ticket scanned at the door (you realised that VIP wasn’t necessary; you weren’t going to be able to see them at all if you didn’t suck it up, and buying a regular ticket doesn’t mean you love them any less than anyone else). But you were lucky in the fact that you managed to get a front row seat for their final show. It cost you a small fortune, and you could only afford the one, so you’re on your own, but that’s okay.

Making your way down to the front of the arena, you’re surprised when you recognise at least a dozen people scattered about the place, knowing them from Twitter and various other social media’s. They look back at you and wave, some coming over to hug you and it’s crazy that it’s the last show and you’re meeting people you’ve only ever been able to talk to through a screen. You cry with a couple of them, and damn, you look a mess, and you’re sitting front row, and your idols are going  _ to be able to see you looking like this _ , but the thought doesn’t send you into a panic like it would’ve previously. You’re fairly confident that the band knows what to expect when they set foot on the stage.

After you’ve found your seat and made friends with the people sat either side of you, gushing over your favourite songs and your favourite memories, the lights dim and the crowd goes wild.

The noise is immense. It batters you from every side. You can feel it in your chest, the vibrations making your skin prickle and your stomach turn uncomfortably. It’s not something you’re used to, but you’re determined to enjoy it. When Avi kicks off with the bass line, and then Kevin joins in with the beatboxing, you scream along with everyone else, scream so loud that you can’t hear the music over the sound of your own voice.

And then they walk out on stage; Avi and Kevin are coming on from the left, arms around each other, Mitch and Kirstie from the right, holding hands and smiling. Walking from the back is Scott, and he’s even more gorgeous in real life. You laugh with your neighbours when you spot the familiar black leather jacket he’s wearing, though it’s faded to grey over the years.

The show is a mixture of old and new songs, and of course, you sing along to all of them. You can barely hear the band over the noise rushing past your ears, but the atmosphere is electric. It sparks and fizzes in your veins, and you can feel the sweat dripping down your spine. You’re not as young as you used to be, but you’re giving the younger ones around you a run for their money with all the jumping you’re doing. The band are just as energetic, throwing everything they have into this last show.

Kirstie dances with Mitch as Scott sings the verses in ‘Sing’, while Avi rolls his hips at the girls the other side of the crowd, sending them into a frenzy and you laugh so hard, tears gathering in your eyes.

They don’t stand still at any point of the show, no microphone stands in sight, choosing to constantly be near the crowd, engaging with the audience and it’s so heartwarming to see the smiles that are directed at the fans. More than once you spot tears in their eyes. You feel elated and sad at the same time, and it’s a rollercoaster, gripping your chest painfully and then floating away as a new song starts. Not once do the crowd stop cheering.

It’s coming towards the end of the show. You can feel it in your bones, even though it hasn’t been said. Tears have been falling down Kirstie’s face for the last five minutes, and she leans on Kevin for support as they sing ‘Light in the Hallway’. It’s beautiful and haunting, and then they launch into ‘On My Way Home’, and somehow you just know. This is it. This is the last song. This is the last time you’ll ever see Pentatonix on stage.

You look up at them, and Scott catches your eye. He waves and throws you a peace sign and the people around you start squealing, but you know it was aimed at you, so you laugh quietly and lean against the barrier, nodding your head in acknowledgement and waving back. He winks before flying down the catwalk into the crowd, Mitch and Kirstie strutting behind him.

The show ends.

Five angels stand on the stage, arms around each other as they take in the screaming of the crowd. “PTX” is chanted over and over but you can’t find the strength to open your mouth to join in. You feel like your chest is caving in, like your world is ending, like your breath was stolen away with the very last word sung.

Scott grins, tears streaming down his face before he presses a kiss to the side of Mitch’s head. The crowd gets impossibly louder, and a few of the people around you coo at the gesture. Mitch giggles softly, smile sweet and open. Kirstie is a mess, leaning into Scott’s other side, openly weeping. Her mascara runs down her face, and she’s still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. Avi and Kevin are play fighting next to him, and when Kirstie smacks Avi on the arm to get his attention, they both turn to the crowd and wave.

They take one final bow and walk off the stage.

The arena lights come on. You don’t move from where you’re leaning against the barrier. The buzz and excitement of the crowd slowly start to dim as more and more people leave, but still, you don’t move. You hang your head down. The cold starts to creep into your body, adrenaline leaving your system, but you don’t reach for your coat.

Tears silently fall down your cheeks. It’s over. It’s really over.

No one tries to move you, even though you’re just standing there. You glance out the corner of your eye, and there are still people around, spread out in uneven groups, comforting one another or standing there, just like you are. Security starts to move people on after a while.

One guy comes over to you. He taps you lightly on the shoulder to get your attention, and when he has it, he points to the side of the stage, just beyond the barrier.

Nicole is standing there. She gestures for you to come over, and you gather up your things, thanking the gentleman as he moves the barrier slightly so you can squeeze through the gap. You wipe the tears from your face, and she smiles kindly.

“Hey. I have a surprise for you,” Nicole greets with, taking your hand. She leads you away from the arena floor, though you can still see the seats and they’re practically empty now. If you screamed, would it echo? The thought makes you giggle. Nicole looks at you in question, quirking an eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“Turn around,” she says, gesturing over your shoulder.

You turn and nearly choke on your tongue. Standing there, grinning at you, eyes red and puffy still, is Scott.

“Oh my god,” you say, hands flying up to your mouth. You look up at him. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. Your heart races and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Hi.” His smile turns cheeky as he says, “So you finally made it to a show.”

The shock of being within feet of one of your idols drops as quickly as it comes. The cheeky bastard. His twinkling blue eyes gleam in the half-light.

“You remember that?!” you practically shriek at him. Oh god, the embarrassment. But, oh, if he remembers that he must have seen the endless tweets you sent to him, and the pictures you shared and. Oh. My. God. You cover your face, feeling it get redder and redder. Of course, the tweets died off after a while; your own life got too busy to keep up with, but you still reply whenever they post something new.

He grabs your wrists and pulls your hands from your face. He holds them in front of you.

“Of course I remember that. I remember the good morning and goodnight tweets. I remember you always telling us how amazing you thought we were and how much you loved us. Don’t be embarrassed, love. It was cute. It’s always lovely when people tweet you beautiful things. I’m glad you managed to see us finally.”

The sincerity in his voice makes a lump form in your throat, the well of emotion choking you.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I meant every word of it. I still do.”

Scott nods. He drops one of your wrists and leans across to grab something off the box next to him.

“I want you to have this.”

He hands you his black leather jacket. You look up at him in shock. He nods again, gesturing for you to take it. You gently take the jacket from his grasp, surprised at how soft the leather is, how black it looks now the lights aren’t shining on it.

“Scott, I can’t take this.”

“You can and you will. I have no use for it anymore.”

“Scott?” is said from the door into the back of the arena. Mitch pops his head around the door. “Hi,” he says when he spots you. You wave at him.

“Yes, babe?” Scott replies to him. You can see how Scott’s face lights up when his eyes land on Mitch. It’s like the sun has come out to shine. Your heart warms at the intimacy of the moment. You think back to the previous year when they finally announced they were together during a Superfruit Q&A that you still have saved on your favourites playlist on YouTube, and one moment stands out in your mind.

_ We had no idea the other felt the same way until we sat down and talked it out and it just clicked. And we went ‘oh’. It was the most natural move in the world to make. _

“We’re leaving in a minute. You still need to pack your things.”

“Okay. Thank you, honey. I’ll be right there.”

Scott turns back to you and Mitch departs, blowing a kiss your way.

“So, what’s in the cards for you now?” you ask, curious as to what each person has planned now this chapter is over. You have no doubts though that they’ll go on to be successful in their individual ways.

“Oh, you know. More music.” It’s vague and suspicious, but you don’t pry. It’s none of your business anyway. As long as he’s happy, that’s all that matters to you. You say as much, and he pulls you into his arms. “Thank you so much. I promise you, though; I’m not going anywhere. I still expect a billion and one tweets from you every single day.”

You chuckle wetly, tears welling again, and it’s too much, so you break away from the embrace, putting a few feet between you.

“Good luck, Scott,” you say, turning away. You look at him over your shoulder when you’re far enough away. He’s watching so you wave and then it’s over.

You might not have got VIP tickets, but this more than makes up for it as you look down at the jacket in your arms. You hug it to your chest and breathe in the smell of leather and cologne, and you smile.

When you get to the barrier, the same security guy is standing there, apparently waiting to let you back out.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He hands you a bottle of water, and when you look at him, he’s smiling softly at you. You can tell from his eyes that he’s not laughing at you; he seems genuinely sympathetic to your pain.

You sniffle and nod your head. You’re lying. Of course, you are. Even this complete stranger knows it. But you will be okay. You know you will be. Bands have come and gone for decades, and still, the world turns. Life goes on, but you will always have the memories.

\--

When you get to the car and turn your phone back on, you see two new Twitter notifications.

_ Scott Hoying follows you back _

_ @ptxtilltheend it was really great meeting you finally. Look after that jacket ;) _

You smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Social media links in bio.


End file.
